


The Most Foolish Things

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [28]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4474832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya begins to get settled into his stay at the Maggot's Nest; Renji gets his first look at the Division's budget and instantly freaks out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Foolish Things

Byakuya lost count of how many cell doors opened, only to close again behind him, with a soul-rattling clang. 

Around turns and twists, deeper and deeper inside, further underground, Byakuya followed the beefy guard--whose surname he’d since learned was Yasujiro, thanks to how often the various point guards bowed and addressed him. Yasujiro took every opportunity to explain Byakuya’s crime and to share a laugh at Byakuya’s expense. Given this response, Byakuya was getting a strong sense that he would not be taken seriously by his fellow inmates. Though, perhaps fortuitously, no one inside the Maggot’s Nest seemed familiar enough with the current Gotei roster to know that Byakuya’s subordinate was another man. They made a very different assumption that engendered a lot of winks and nudges and rude hand gestures that guessed at breasts’ size.

Byakuya said nothing, neither in confirmation, nor denial.

They were so deep inside now, Byakuya could only hear the tiniest note of Senbonzakura’s song. His limbs felt… less coordinated, perhaps--as if someone had thrown a blanket or a net over him. It was disconcerting, though Byakuya felt that with time, he’d become acclimated.

Over his massive shoulder, Yasujiro said, “Next stop, your new home.”

Byakuya prepared himself for a march through an open, common area, but Yasujiro seemed to be taking them in via some back way. They passed cells, most of them empty, that were like the one they first kept Seichi in: bare of everything but a cot and, occasionally, a foot manacle bolted to the floor.

“Solitary,” Yasujiro explained “New boss doesn’t use it very often. She likes the death matches, I guess. I say, they’re messy business and shit for morale for us guys working in here. Do you know how impossible it is get people to do clean up? And you lot won’t let us have those little Fourth Division helpers.”

“I can’t imagine why not,” Byakuya said dryly.

Yasujiro glanced back at him and cracked a smile. “I keep forgetting you can talk. And, look at this, you even have a sense of humor buried somewhere in there. Will miracles never cease?”

Byakuya went back into silent mode at that, which only appeared to make Yasujiro laugh harder.

They came to the end of the single occupant cells. Byakuya could hear noises: voices talking and the general commotion of people milling around. The very first double-occupancy cell with an open door they came to, Yasujiro stopped at. He rapped his knuckles on the steel bars and shouted, “Oi, Ten, come out and meet your new roomie.”

Byakuya peered into the cell, not seeing anyone at all, at first. Then, a mousy-haired head popped up from the top bunk. A… youth--Byakuya might have considered him a ‘boy’ but he was lanky and tall enough to have had a growth spurt or two--slid languidly down off the bunk. He wasn’t wearing the shinigami uniform, but instead a plain white short yukata and hakama of the same color. It fit him illy, as though, perhaps he’d outgrown it overnight. He was barefoot, and his short hair was a nest of soft curls.

“Hey, hey, hey-hey, I pay my bribe,” Ten said. “What is, what-what, what the hell is this? The point in paying is for privacy. That means no roommate. You know, just saying, in case you somehow forgot the most important part of our deal. I….. No. Not okay, ‘Jiro-kun.”

Ten nearly hopped from foot to foot, vibrating with irritation.

“This here is Captain Byakuya Kuchiki and he’s our guest for only three weeks. More importantly, you and he are the only two on three squares a day, dig? So you two should get along famously,” Yasujiro said, and then, turning away, waved good-bye. “Have fun, kids. I expect payment to resume once he’s gone, Ten!”

“You suck, Yasujiro!” Ten said, sticking his head out of his cell long enough to raise a rude gesture to Yasujiro’s retreated back. Then he turned to glare at Byakuya. “Captain?” he considered for a moment, and then asked, “Like as in currently serving, not former-Captain?”

“Just so,” Byakuya said.

“Only three weeks? For real?”

As it seemed Ten needed further confirmation, Byakuya nodded, “Yes, my sentence is for three weeks only.”

Ten glanced left and then right, lingering in the direction the noises came from, which Byakuya could only assume was some kind of common room in the far distance. “How much kidō do you have?”

Byakuya considered explaining that, while he understood the principles of nearly every spell, there were several in the upper echelon that he would not consider himself proficient in. Instead, he opted for the simpler, “Most of it.”

Ten gave Byakuya another long glance that seemed to measure him up. “Okay, okay, okay-okay, you can stay here, but the condition is that you teach me what you can of everything after Hadō Thirty-One.”

Internally, Byakuya shrugged. The proposition was clearly illegal, but he could hardly afford to be ‘homeless’ on his first night in the Maggot’s Nest. Besides, this jittery, energetic person intrigued him. “Very well. We have a deal.”

Ten nodded, stepping away from the cell door enough to allow Byakuya to enter, “Obviously, the top bunk is mine.”

The cell also seemed to have its own sink as well as a rather crude, lidless toilet. There were, of course, no privacy screens. The walls were far from barren, though. Ten, or some previous occupant, had found charcoal somewhere and sketched a quite well-rendered forest scene on the flecked stone. Though it was in black and gray, the image evoked pine trees and mountain streams. Animals were hidden everywhere in the sprawling picture. Byakuya instantly noticed several egrets, dragonflies, and stoats. Pointing to the art, Byakuya asked, “Your work?”

“I’d kill for some color.” Then, his brown eyes went wide and he waved his hands as though to banish what he’d said, “I don’t mean literally. No, no, no-no. I’m an avowed pacifist. Well… now, anyway.”

That was comforting, despite the obvious indication that Ten had previously not been so inclined. Continuing his perusal of the cell, Byakuya noticed that Ten’s bunk was piled high with books. Seeing those, Byakuya suddenly imagined being able to survive long nights in this place, “There is a library?”

In a singular, acrobatic leap--fast enough to surprise Byakuya into stepping backwards a pace,Ten was on the bunk. He sat himself on the edge of the mattress and put his hands out protectively, “There’s my library. You want one of these beauties, you have to trade.”

Ah. The bribe. Byakuya’s imagination had gone somewhere far darker at the first mention of the arrangement with the head guard. “How do you get them inside?”

“That’s for me to know,” Ten said with a sly smile. “But I can get you any title. Even stuff found in the Human World.”

“Is that so?” Byakuya nodded. “Well, then, I hope, someday soon, to have something you need for which I can make such a trade.”

Ten nodded. Dropping his arms, he frowned down at Byakuya. “”For which,’ huh? You don’t sound like the usual guys we get in here, Captain. What did Yasujiro say your name was? Kuchiki? Like, as in, Kuchiki-Kuchiki…?”

“Yes, I am the Kuchiki.”

“Oh,” Ten said, looking suddenly a little scared. “Oh, well, it was nice knowing you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Byakuya asked.

But, Ten had disappeared under his covers and Byakuya had the sense of figures, crowding at the cell door. Turning, he saw several men of various sizes and shapes, though a singular descriptive phrase suited the lot of them: big and ugly. 

“He means, rich boy, we ain’t fond of your kind around here.”

Byakuya counted their number: at least, from what he could see, there were a half dozen blocking the exit. The size of the cell and walls at his sides and back were, for the most part, advantageous. The men could only approach one at a time, providing Byakuya moved fast enough.

Now, it seemed, was the time to discover just how much shunpo and kidō he could command in this gods forsaken place.

#

Renji was sitting at his usual spot in the lieutenant’s office staring at the frustratingly small amount of paperwork on his desk. Turned out, when you were both lieutenant and captain, shit got requisitioned at record speeds. 

And now he wouldn’t have to order more toilet paper for well over a month.

What the fuck was he going to do to stay busy for the next three weeks? 

Just in case he’d made some kind of hideous math error, Renji double-checked the budget. This was the first time he’d ever had full-access to what the Division called the ‘big’ ledger, and he was surprised just how much excess funds the Sixth seemed to have. Maybe all the Divisions ran so high in the black? Byakuya always made it seem like Renji had better account for every ken, and now looking at the balance, Renji had to wonder why? And, why, in the plus column, was there this hefty sum, exponentially larger than Renji’s salary, written in special blue ink every so often at seemingly random intervals?

Every so often? Renji flipped back several pages, and then a few more, until he recognized the dates. It wasn’t random: it was pay day, every damn time.

Byakuya was funneling his paychecks into the Division.

Renji slammed the ledger closed, locking it. He stood up and told Nanako, “I know I said I'd work a double, but I need to get to the Second Division yesterday.”

“What the hell?” she asked glancing from him to the ledger and back again. “What’s the rush?”

“I heard Byakuya tell the new steward to expect a freeze on his stipend from the Kuchiki. Now I find out he ain’t drawing pay. Nanako, the captain’s got no way to pay for room and board. Soi Fon is going to dump him in with the paupers.”

Nanako stood up suddenly, too, like she wanted to rush off with him. She gripped her desktop with whitening knuckles. “Oh, no. Oh shit, Renji. Go!”

#

Renji was pretty sure he’d never shunpo’d anywhere so fast in his life, not even when he had Rukia in his arms and Aizen on his ass. 

But one does not simply walk into the Second Division. 

He'd put exactly one foot on the stairway when five ninja appeared out of nowhere, neatly circling him, their weapons drawn. Renji probably hesitated a second too long before raising his hands, because they all took a collective step forward and he felt sharp steel at back and throat. Wisely, he froze. “Is someone already calling your captain?” Renji asked, “Because I need to see her. Or you know, even that chump Ōmaeda would do. He’s a noble, isn’t he? He’d understand the problem.”

“Who are you calling a chump?” Ōmaeda bellowed, stepping out into the open from the shadows of the pine trees at the top of the hill. 

Renji tried to turn his head to address the lieutenant, but got a sharp poke in the throat for his effort. Zabimaru growled, reminding Renji that if he wanted to scatter these idiots Hihio would do the trick nicely.

_Calling bankai at the steps of the Second is like declaring war on the Kuchiki_ , Renji snarled. _Satisfying as fuck-all but ain’t the brightest move my first damn day on the job_.

_Whimp_ , the Baboon King muttered.

_Party pooper_ , hissed the snake tail.

“Look, a jillion apologies about the chump crack, Lieutenant Ōmaeda,” Renji said, trying to sound contrite, despite the fact that the ninja had clearly felt his near bankai and pressed in even closer. “Thing is, I only just now found out that I let my captain go to jail without making arrangements for room and board.”

“Well, that was a bonehead move, even for you, Abarai,” Ōmaeda chuckled. “They’re probably having him for lunch right now in the common room.”

Zabimaru roared again, and Renji was really, sorely tempted to let him go this time. “In your fucking dreams, Ōmaeda. That’s Byakuya Kuchiki you’re trash talking. He’s mopping the floor with their sorry asses right now.”

“Then what are you worried about, Abarai? Why’d you come running in here like your house is on fire?”

Well, Ōmaeda had him there, but damn if Renji was going to let him know that. So, he forced out a casual laugh. “You know captains and paperwork; mine’ll skin me if I fuck this up.”

The pressure released at Renji’s back and throat. “All right, all right,” Ōmaeda chuckled, as the ninja vanished back to wherever they’d come from. “Come up and I’ll make things right for you.”

Renji bounded up the stairs like he hadn’t just had naked steel at his throat and let Ōmaeda throw an arm over his shoulder to lead him inside. 

“You know, you should be sure to tell the Kuchiki that I was the one that smoothed things out for Byakuya,” Ōmaeda said as they walked under the tall pines, the scent of sap sharp in the wintery air. 

“Oh yeah,” Renji assured him, thinking about how pissed off Masama would be to discover anyone had helped Byakuya. “I’ll be sure to drop your name. Early and often.”

“Good, good,” Ōmaeda beamed, missing Renji’s sarcasm completely. 

“Oh, yeah, one other small problem,” Renji said, shifting his shoulders to get out from under Ōmaeda. “Thing is, I’m skinned, so I’m going to have to divert Division funds. Technically, I have the authority to do that, but I probably need to check in with Byakuya first.” Renji could see Ōmaeda’s mouth working to try to figure out how to back out of this deal, so he added, “But an important guy like you, you could get me in and out on the QT, couldn’t you? I mean, it’d be a huge favor to the Kuchiki. One, I can guarantee you, they’d never, ever forget.”

Ōmaeda’s eyes lit up greedily, “Really?”

“Yep, you do this for me,” Renji continued, “and I’m certain your name would go right to the very top of the Kuchiki matchmaker’s list.”

“Oh. My.” Ōmaeda breathed. “Yeah, I can get this done for you, my new friend. Follow me!”

#

Byakuya expected the guard to pound on the cell door that Ten had slid shut after Byakuya returned from dragging the last of the unconscious bodies out into the hallway. Surely, this sort of thing would be met with punishment of some kind. So, he stood up and presented himself. “I’m here. Ready.”

“Good,” Yasujiro said, “Because this better happen lickity-split. The warden is going to be sniffing out that zanpakutō so fast....” He waved Byakuya out the door, with an urgent gesture. “We got five--maybe ten minutes, tops.”

Byakuya followed, but he couldn’t hide his confusion, “I’m sorry, what?”

“You have a secret meeting to make,” Yasujiro said. He’d started down the hallway, his head turned to talk to Byakuya, and nearly tripped over one of the still unconscious inmates. He glanced down and then slowly registered the whole row of them, which Byakuya had lain out neatly. “Oh, I see you’re making friends. Good on you. C’mon, you don’t want to miss this.”

“What is the nature of this secret meeting?”

“I don’t really know,” Yasujiro said. “I’m guessing that’s the secret part of secret meeting But I do know I get a big bonus if I get you there before the warden figures out she’s got a live one inside the walls.”

Live one? Yasujiro had mentioned zanpakutō, so did that mean that the person he was rushing to meet was a shinigami? Could he dare to hope that it could be Renji? Byakuya picked up his pace. Yasujiro noticed and started to jog. Cell doors were already opened for them, and Byakuya began to worry just how much this ‘secret meeting’ was costing Renji… or whomever arranged it.

They turned a final corner, and Yasujiro used a key on his belt to open a Western-style door that had the kanji ‘STAFF ONLY’ printed on it. He flung the door open, and… oh gods, yes, there was Renji standing up to greet him. It took every ounce of Byakuya's willpower not to fling himself into those familiar arms. Though the impulse was more easily curbed seeing that Lieutenant Ōmaeda was sitting at the table, munching on a bag of potato chips. 

Renji's expression was… fierce. He wasn’t wearing his usual bandana and the forehead and eyebrow tattoos scrunched together almost angrily.

“Renji? What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Your hair. They fucking cut your hair.”

“Yes. It’s fine. I asked them to,” Byakuya said. “Tell me why you’ve come so urgently.”

“Your hair....”

#

“Renji, pull it together,” Byakuya was saying, but Renji couldn’t get over it. Byakuya looked… well, that was the thing--he looked eerily attractive. The ragged cut had sheared everything off below the ears, but much of his bangs remained. One of the longer, frontal locks fell over his eye, looking super-adorable in a way that made Renji just a tiny bit uncomfortable.

No, strike that--very uncomfortable.

“You look like a boy version of Rukia,” Renji said, realizing. His breath came in funny starts as he tried to wrap his head around this. “How is it you look almost exactly like Rukia?”

“Maybe because she’s his sister, you giant idiot,” Ōmaeda said around a mouthful of chips. The ‘s’ sounds spattered chip bits on the front of his uniform as he spoke. “Gods, Abarai, I always heard you were a moron, but I didn’t think you were this stupid.”

Renji would have pointed out that Rukia was meant to be ‘adopted’ sister, not blood. But the big blonde guard who’d brought Byakuya in said, “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Yes, tell me what this is about,” Byakuya said sharply. “Has my family made a move already?”

“No,” Renji said. He found he had to tear his eyes away from Byakuya’s hair in order to talk, because how could Rukia be related by blood? From all accounts, Hisana was a dead-ringer for Rukia. They were the siblings: Hisana and Rukia, not Byakuya and Rukia.

Right?

“Renji?!”

“Uh, right,” Renji said, bowing his head and staring at the table beneath his palms. “I came to inform you that I’m diverting Division funds to get you out of the general population.”

“Inform me?” Byakuya said, sounding startled and a little miffed. “What if I refuse?”

Renji glanced up then to gave him a hard stare. What the fuck was this now? Why wouldn’t he want out? Didn’t he see he needed to get out as soon as possible? “I’m Acting Captain. This is a courtesy call.”

“Hard core,” Ōmaeda chuckled. 

Yeah, no, that hadn’t come out right, had it? “Can we have five seconds alone?” Renji snarled. 

Things were going wrong. He couldn’t say what he wanted to, and, damn it, he couldn’t get over the resemblance to Rukia. Seeing Byakuya here, looking so much like her, well, it was confusing as fuck, and triggering all his guilt about having nearly let Rukia get executed.

Fuck, look at him.

No, don’t. 

“Damn it,” Renji said, “Just five seconds.”

Both Ōmaeda and the blonde guard shook their heads. The guard pointed to Zabimaru, “You could kill him in five seconds. And it sounds to me like you’ve got some kind of grudge, coming in here, bullying him like that, Mr. _Acting_ Captain.”

Renji bit back a ‘fuck off,’ just as Byakuya said, “There’s simply a misunderstanding. My current situation is acceptable.”

‘Acceptable,’ was he off his fucking rocker? “You’re still going to accrue fees,” Renji pointed out. Then, he wasn’t so sure. He glanced over at Ōmaeda to confirm, “That is how it works here, isn’t it?”

Ōmaeda, who had put his feet up on the table, as though enjoying the show, nodded. He puffed up, ready to hold forth on an area of expertise, when the door banged open.

A woman with a shock of white hair stood at the door, holding the knob. She glanced at them all, and then stopped at Renji. Her eyes trailed down from his facial ink to hone in on Zabimaru. Renji swore the zanpakutō huddled closer to his hip. Instinctively, he turned, as though to use his body as a shield between them.

Ōmaeda jumped up and pushed out his chest. “This is Gotei business, Warden. I have the authority here.” 

Ignoring Ōmaeda , she moved into the room. Renji kept Zabimaru away from her, and so she circled them. “Look at you two, so tight,” she said, smiling. Her eyes flicked to his ink, but also seemed to sense something deeper: “You change for them as much as they change for you.”

Renji felt a growl rising in the back of his throat. He showed her his teeth. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Renji could see Ōmaeda taking advantage of the situation to usher everyone out. Byakuya seemed to try to catch his eye, but Renji couldn’t spare him even the smallest glance This woman was after his Zabimaru and she was seriously creeping him out.

“The ones with beasts usually end up here, you know,” she purred. “Eventually. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Yeah? How are you stocked for demons?”

“Oh,” she fluttered as though Renji had offered her the finest jewel. “A demon. So very rare. But, yes, a very dark one resides here, too. Though he ate his own tail, swallowed it up, like those ones do.”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, lady.” She’d stepped closer, making grabbing motions with her hands, so Renji let his own close around the hilt of Zabimaru.

“But you’re not like that one, the little weasel,” she said, taking a step back and folding her hands against her narrow chest. “You can’t change shape. So you’d have to give the demon up to me.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’d rather die,” Renji pointed out. 

Zabimaru growled and hissed their agreement.

Ōmaeda chose that moment to come blundering back in. “Hey, Abarai, I think you and me should really get going,” he bellowed awkwardly. “It’s… uh, late and we have that thing to do.”

“Yeah,” Renji said, backing his way out the door, keeping his eye on the weird-ass warden. “Sounds like a plan.”

#

Back in his cell, Byakuya clutched the pillow tightly to his chest. It smelled of lye and flea powder, but he pressed his face in deeper. His armor failed him; the tiniest arrow had pierced the weakest point. It was always the most foolish things that hurt the most

His throat constricted.

_Renji hates my hair_.

**Author's Note:**

> Renji's reaction has almost everything to do with the fact that when I searched "Byakuya with short hair" to see if any artists had tried it out, I got pictures of Rukia.
> 
> Also, I think I've been neglecting to thank Josey (cestus) for her continuing typo-spotting, cheerleading, and friendship. So, thanks, Josey!


End file.
